A Little Busy Here
by PurpleMoon3
Summary: After two-thousand years with little to no communication with their superiors, the Garrison has developed something of an attitude. They are God's soldiers, and they don't like bureaucrats telling them how to do their job.
1. Voicemail

**A Little Busy Here**

**A Superntural Fanfiction**

**Summary- After two-thousand years with little to no communication with their superiors, the Garrison has developed something of an attitude. ****They are Gods soldiers, and they don't like bureaucrats telling them how to do their job. **

**Part One: Going to Voicemail  
**

The group of humans sat around the table, hands joined, as the professional psychic swept back her hair and rested her hand on Dean's arm. The burn was still fresh, but he could feel none of the pain he'd come to accept as a part of the afterlife.

At least until Pamela touched it. Then it crackled uncomfortably. "I invoke, conjure, and command you. Appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you. Appear unto me before this circle."

Dean privately thought her little chant wasn't archaic enough to get some big-bad demon's attention, but he wasn't about to tell her how to do her job. Then the TV in the corner flashed on to static so he supposed it was working.

He really hoped she could keep things under control.

"Castiel?" She paused her chant and Dean leaned closer.

"Castiel? What's that mean?" He could see Bobby and Sam opening their eyes and watching the psychic warily.

"It's name..." Her voice lost hesitation as she changed up her spiel. "I command you show me your face! Show me your face!"

The house shook and Bobby looked around worried. A radio upstairs blared and cycled through the channels. "Maybe we should stop." His instincts were screaming at him to run for the nearest salt circle.

"I've almost got it!" Pamela hissed. "Show me your face! Show me your fa-" The flames on the table surged upward and the Psychic leaned back as her voice choked off in surprise. Her eyes rolled up in her as a vibration filled the room. Dean recognized it and snatched his hands back to cover his ears in anticipation of the coming pain session.

Then the static filled TV flashed to a completely white screen and the candle flames turned a matching white. The presence lessened and all four humans heard what sounded like a soft chime coming from the flames followed by a rough, husky voice.

"I'm sorry, you've reached Castiel. I am unable to answer your summons right now, and am most likely busy fighting the demonic hordes that have recently been released on the mortal plane, but don't worry, just leave your name and current location and I'll arrive just in the nick of time to save your ass." The words were followed by another chime. After a few seconds the candles spontaneously went out.

Dean stared at Pamela, who was panting like she'd just run a marathon. He summed up everyone's feeling with three wisely chosen words. "What the hell?"

End.

**A/N- Oh dear. I was hanging with my fellow supernatural friend at lunch and THIS happened. I've got a few more snippets planned with Anna, Uriel (not evil!) and a few other nameless angels. **


	2. Dine and Dash

**A Little Busy Here**

**Supernatural AU**

**"Dine and Dash"**

Castiel walked into the small town diner with an easy step born from confidence and years of experience. He had the air and clothing of a successful middle-aged business man, if said business man was just coming back from an all-nighter trying to deal with recession numbers. The rumpled state of his dress was the only thing that suggested he belonged in the run down diner as he sat at a booth and waited for the waitress to approach and take his order.

She was tall, slim, testy, and came to his table with a walk like a predator. Castiel glanced at her and clamped down on his emotions. While looking at her brought up thoughts of destruction and retribution that her mere blasphemous existence justified he had a second goal that needed fulfilling first.

"What would you like?" She drawled, one hand on her hip in an effort to show relaxed boredom. The stressed lines around her eyes gave her away.

Castiel tilted his head slightly, barely a fraction of an inch, and wondered what his charge could have said to her to get her so flustered. Demons were so... wrong. He decided to not to worry about it. It wouldn't matter soon, anyway. "Pie. With ice-cream on top and whip-cream."

"Celebrating something?" She arched an eyebrow at him and Castiel ignored her question. He was very good at ignoring things he didn't care for; snarky demons included.

"A water as well. Extra salt."

"...you want salt in the water?" She spoke slowly, tension leaking from her shoulders as she stared at him in confusion. He stared back and let his annoyance show. She shrugged and moved back to the kitchen to confer with the cook about more than his pie. Moving. Finding another place to hide out until they could meet up with others.

Strength in numbers.

Castiel dug into his pie with a small smile. Anna could go on and on about the virtues of chocolate cake but pie was, he felt, the true confectionery wonder. Even if it was apple. All too soon his spoon clinked softly on the now empty plate.

As if summoned the waitress slapped his check on the table. Castiel stared at it, then turned his eyes up to her. The pie had been very good. Tasty. Creamy. Filled with goodness and topped with fluffy white love. The pie sat comfortably in his vessels stomach and the sugar high was causing him to feel... merciful.

Just a little.

With a sigh of contentment, he _stretched_, and the ground shook. The three demons screamed as _power_ filled the small establishment.

* * *

Sam entered the darkened diner cautiously. Caution quickly turned to confusion as he noticed the downed body by the counter. He flipped the body over and grimaced at the sight of the ex-demon's eyes. Rather, the lack of sight. Blood and a questionable substance had boiled out around the empty sockets. More blood had pooled and was already drying at the throat.

Sam swallowed nervously and suddenly wished he'd brought his gun inside with him. _Idiot Sam! You are an idiot! There's an unbelievably powerful, possibly insane, THING running around, and it's just your luck something with enough power to MELT DEMON EYES swings by. DAMMIT!_ He backed up, ready to leave and come back tomorrow with Dean and fake ID's because if 'Castiel' was still around it probably liked Dean. Or at least wouldn't melt out his eyes. Maybe just enslave him or something and they could always find a loophole in those kind of arrangements. Lord knows Sam researched enough during the past year trying to get his brother out of the Deal.

Sam is only halfway to the door when the faint sound of something shuffling on the floor attracts his attention. He crosses the tiled floor toward the kitchen. The cook is staring up at him, eyes missing with one of his own knives pinning a hand to the wall as the corpse balances precariously against the stove.

The waitress is crouched in a corner surrounded by plates of pie. She's cutting another slice and depositing it with care on it's own china before drizzling half-melted ice cream on top. Her head turns toward him and even in the dim light Sam can see that she can't. She sniffs, scowls at him, and hunkers down behind her lines of pie.

He can only think of one thing to say. "What the hell?"

END.

A/N- Castiel has very attuned selective hearing. It works on annoying people, questions he'd rather not answer, and orders! Luckily his fellow soldiers consider such a trait an asset.

Next snippet shall involve Uriel and mass destruction!


	3. When It Rains

**A Little Busy Here**

**A Supernatural AU**

**'When it Rains'**

Demonic curses and heavenly shouts filled the air. Supernaturally empowered strikes lit the morning air in flashes as energy clashed. Ozone filled the farming homestead as opposing forces engaged a life-or-death battle for one of the six hundred seals.

Anael kicked a demon possessed human in the chest to give herself breathing room before sweeping around with her silver grace-imbued sword. The heaven wrought blade cut into three other demons causing them to retreat screaming as their wounds sparked and smoked. Anna flexed her wings and leapt up out of the fray.

They were fighting hard, they were gaining ground, but it was too slow. Lillith had more than her usual 'court' with her. There had to be at least fifty, maybe more, demons running around. Not all of them had vessels, but the insubstantial could do damage all on their own.

Her angels were fighting as hard as they could but they were pressed for time.

Anna felt righteous anger burn through her as she dived back into the fray, grace crackling along her skin and forcing demons back as she cut through them. It was ridiculous. Anael was an arch-angel, she was in command of the earth-bound garrison, and she didn't get there by virtue of raw power (unlike _some_ arch-angels). Anael had gained her position due to her talent. Her skill in leadership and strategy.

So why were her until recently absent superiors insisting they engage the enemy for this seal in head-to-head combat?

Anna could think of five other things she could be doing. The seal needed to be saved, but at the rate they were going it might not be.

Like the first seal.

_Whose idiotic idea was it to lay siege to hell? _ It would have been faster to send a strike team to retrieve the soul instead of battling every two-bit demon along the way.

Anna snarled and barreled her way to her subordinate. They were running out of time and she didn't care anymore. She was tired of moronic orders coming down the pipe. Micheal was the only one with the authority to take command of her forces, and the orders couldn't be from him because he wasn't an idiot. He was tactical genius that was stuck in heaven due to some red-tape.

So it was up to them to make the decisions.

"Castiel!" Anna yelled as she kicked the legs out from under a demon and slice at a dark cloud of energy, not caring to see if it dispersed under her blade's influence.

"Anna!" Her lieutenant called as he pinned a demon to the ground and placed a hand on her face, eyes hard as he forced his grace into the vessel to purge it. Anna punched a demon that was coming up on the other angel and moved to guard his back. She could see another of her brothers fighting five demons at once: a truly beautiful dance as his twin daggers flicked through the air.

Thunder rolled through the air.

"Cas! Find Uriel! I need an air strike, now!" Lighting flashed. "We can't let her Raise the Witnesses!"

* * *

Uriel moved methodically through the disgusting sacks of demon trash that were blighting his father's creation. He enjoyed the feel of his vessel's fist sinking into the soft flesh of the demon possessed. He enjoyed the look of hatred, just before it turned to pure terror, as he burned the twisted monster out of the human.

"Uriel." Castiel spoke in his usual controlled voice as he flew over, blocking a strike as he did so and retaliating by breaking the offending arm. Within milliseconds the two angels were back to back and fighting the horde as one. The two brothers reveled in the feeling as their grace flowed around them, powering their strikes, and absorbing what few blows made it past their guard. "Lay Waste."

The specialist grinned in absolute joy as his wings stretched out and his grace exploded around him causing several demons to scream as their eyes burned out. In a blink he was gone.

* * *

_Finally._ Uriel thought as his essence flew through the cosmos. He'd always thought Anael a capable commander, if a little soft on the mud monkeys, and now he knew he was justified.

_Try to keep casualties down, brother._ Her wind-chime of a voice brushed through the ether. Uriel laughed, he laughed long and hard as he reached out and directed his weapons. He laughed, and it was all the warning the earth received as his brothers and sisters retreated only a second before his attack hit home.

* * *

Lillith smiled as she sprinkled the hairs over the bowl. She's spent months tracking down the remains of victims the silly little hunters couldn't save, months selecting the tools she would use to cut their numbers, and now she would have her fun. The angels would never make it in time to stop her: the satanists who had lent them the house had it covered in wards that would take the do-gooder angels hours to break through even if they managed to get past her army.

"Klatu, Verada-" Lillith didn't get to finish her spell, due to sudden explosion of the world.

* * *

"Huh. Boys? You might want to see this." Bobby called from his desk. He moved over the the television and turned up the volume after placing a bookmark in the old tome he had been looking through trying to figure out what a 'Castiel' was. He didn't think Sam or Dean would be happy with his results.

Dean walked in holding a sandwich, and blinked as he caught sight of the news. 'Breaking Story' ran across the bottom of the screen.

"...as if something had been taking aim at the small town. While the numbers are still coming in, it appears that Smallville has suffered remarkably low loss-of-life. Only two people have been reported dead or in the town itself, despite the multiple building strikes, as a meteor hit the young couple directly, eyewitnesses say.

"As a double blow the Lang farm seems to be the epicenter of the bombardment. Strangely the remains of unknown and unidentified people have been discovered around the smoking ruins that was the Lang homestead. Stranger still what appears to be some kind of satanic ritual set up in the remains...."

Two Winchesters and one Singer absorbed the story, listening as citizens of the small Kansas farming community shared their experiences, some obviously still in shock. Slowly, Dean felt his lips twitch into a smile. A helicopter passed over the 'center' of the meteor strike and all three hunters could see the deep gouges in the earth and the truly devastated house. One miraculously surviving wall bore a sigil of blood all three identified as dark ritual magic.

"Well, shit." Dean snickered as he ate his sandwich. "I guess they pissed off the wrong person."

END.


	4. Enter the Draft

**A Little Busy Here**

**A Supernatural Fanfic**

**Enter the Draft**

While she may have never graduated West Point, and she wasn't gifted from God with innate military stratagems downloaded into her head, Anna could recognize the situation for what it was. A war of attrition. And they were losing. What she couldn't figure out was why the home office, so to speak, didn't seem to understand that. She hadn't sat through several generations of classes just to end up loosing because the Demons had more numbers than her.

"This is ridiculous!" Anna raged in the small abandoned church that had been taken over for their touch-point base. Ramiel jumped at her outburst and backed away from the ranting arch-angel. "There are over six-hundred possible seals, and even with all our scouts popping around keeping tabs on them, there's no way we will be able to defend them all! The fucking demons have been breeding down there for nigh on two-thousand years! We don't have the angel power to keep up with them!"

Castiel made a final adjustment to a structure of crystals and whispered in Enochian over it. The crystals lit up and projected a small earth globe covered in tiny pin-pricks of light. "I know this, Anael. Our Garrison simply wasn't meant to handle the sheer number of demons that escaped the devils gate and have since been summoning up more of their brethren."

Anna grunted and dipped her hand into the ditch water surrounding the inside of the church. Instantly it cleared and shone with holy energy. "Then why won't they send us back-up! I want my blessed calvary!" In a fainter voice that didn't threaten to shatter the remaining stained glass windows she grumbled, "It's like they don't want us to win."

The few angels present bristled at the implication. It was blasphemy. To even contemplate the fall of Eden was a tragedy none wanted to tempt.

"I have a suggestion." Castiel gestured to the magical map he had created and the numerous locations highlighted on it. "You are in charge of all _earth-based _ angels."

Anael gave him a small smile. Her second was a devious one, he was. "Most of them haven't fought since the Fall, if then." She shrugged. "Why not? Father knows we could at least use them to keep an eye on the seals."

Ramiel dusted off his hands and walked up. "But the cupids? Are you serious? They're more likely to run squealing from a demon!"

"Posh." Anna gave her underling a swat for thinking so negatively of the... eccentric... angels. "And Castiel? Check your damn voicemail." She pointed to an altar against the far wall holding various mystical talismans, as well as the internal pieces of what was once a motorola cell phone. "That thing has been blinking at me ever since we got back from stopping that volcano go off."

END.


	5. Bow Chika Wow Wow

**A Little Busy Here**

**A Supernatural Fanfic**

**A/N- After several false starts and about two hours (off and on) of frustrated growling I decided exposition is over-rated. I don't need explanations for this story. I don't need rising action. SCREW TRADITIONAL STORY TELLING!! Let us go right to the interesting part!**

**Bow Chika Wow Wow**

Sam ducked and tried to ignoring the mouth-watering blood that was leaking from his foes lip. The demon's eyes had gone jet black as it psychically tossed a table at him, growling with frustration. "Dean!" The younger brother yelled with anxiety filled worry as he fought with a smaller demon. There were far more demons than they had anticipated, and they were paying for it.

Of course, as usual the brothers got separated during the free-for-all and Dean was no doubt having to deal with his own problems. Sam blocked a punch and winched knowing that the bruise would last a week if not more. The table flinging demon from before decided to stop with the girly temper tantrum and go for direct attacks. He kicked at Sam's ribs and the Winchester would swear the creaked dangerously from the blow.

For a split second he wished he got the super-strength like Jake, may the traitorous bastard rot, and not the brain on steroids.

Sam felt all air rush from his lungs as he hit the aged but still very strong wall of the semi-abandoned building. He groaned and rolled away from a drop kick as the tiny sane portion of his mind that had been shot and hog tied back with his childhood innocence gibbered in fear. That kick had cracked the floor. The cement floor.

Gasping, he scrambled away. A third demon tried to pin him, but he managed to maneuver his legs and trip the bitch up. They wrestled for a moment before a shot of adrenaline and luck allowed him to kick her off and into the demon coming up. Said demon was wielding a knife and accidentally stabbed his companion, but as it was only steel the bitch screeched in rage and turned around to punch him in annoyance.

A familiar handle peeped at the giant sized brunette from under an upturned chair. Sam lunged for it as the third demon, the one with the really mean right hook, grabbed the back of his shirt. Grinning, the demon flicked it's fingers causing the knife poking out of the female to fly to his fingers. "Winchester, It's be fun but..." He gestured vaguely with the knife in the air and as if to continue, but stopped as a light-show went off within it's possessed body.

Sam twisted the demon-killing blade against it's spine with satisfaction. Fleeting satisfaction, as the other two demons in the room suddenly pounced on him sending their only real weapon flying once again.

"SAM!" Dean yelled out as he kicked a demon through the door, filled with brotherly love and righteous anger, nothing was going to stand in his way! Or at least that's what the little voice in his head told itself as yet another demon, this one in the body of a hot young blond and dressed like a business woman grabbed him by the shoulder and nearly dislocated it.

Revitalized by the proof that his brother was not yet dead, again, Sam renewed his efforts at fending of demon and demona. He wasn't doing too good. He was pretty sure the concussion had something to do with it, as well as the rumble of his stomach every time he got a good look at the blood soaked chest of demona. Stupid addicting demon blood.

Maybe he did need to go to an AA meeting. Admitting you had a problem was the first step, right?

He coughed blood as a fist impacted his stomach, and he saw his brother go flying head first into a wall. It was the same wall he'd recently gotten acquainted with. _What is it with monsters and throwing people into walls?_ His pained musing was cut short as the now familiar fist crashed into his face. _Crap._

They were outnumbered. They were trapped. They were going to die.

And he couldn't even take Lilith out with them.

Damn.

Sam could see Dean lying limp on the floor, blood trickling down the side of his head, and glared defiantly at the gloating demon. If he could just get a little blood... maybe buy some time... hold them off long enough to get out and get help...

Or not. Sam blinked in confusion as the demon's smirk melted into slack death while it's body lit up from the inside. As the hand around his throat relaxed and dropped he looked down to see what looked like a solid silver arrow sticking out of his chest. Demona let out a fear filled screech as she tried to run before an arrow was sticking out of her throat, and she too was filled with light.

Sam ran for the special knife and went after a retreating demon even as he heard something slice through the air past his ear.

The demon twisted and dropped, hands clawing briefly at the silver arrow stuck in it's heart before dying in a flash of light. Swallowing, Sam turned expecting the worst and hoping for the best.

Somehow a naked woman, because it didn't matter how thick or well equipped it was a belt did not clothing make, kneeling beside his groaning brother never figured into it.

* * *

Dean groaned as his brain tried to reboot itself. Luckily head wounds always looked worse than they really were, unless it was a brain aneurysm and then your fucked, so he was surprised to find himself able to groan. They had been outnumbered and outgunned, so unless Sammy had suddenly gained full on Jedi powers he should have been dead. He didn't recall slowing groaning into wakefulness last time he died.

As his hazel eyes flickered into focus he sighed in resignation and faint pleasure. Better than Hell, most definitely. He focused on her bright green eyes, they almost glowed, and then her perky beautifully proportioned breasts. "You an angel?"

She smiled brightly. "Why yes! Cherubim, third class!" She then leaned over and wrapped him in a tight embrace. His hand wandered of it's own accord, and he was mildly surprised to find a quiver of arrows before settling on her warm, bare ass. That was nicely proportioned too. He could see a bruised looking Sammy heading over with a huff and magic knife. Was that boy determined to make him celibate or what?

"I just love meeting new people!" The angel proclaimed with a squeal as her embrace tightened the slightest bit. "I do wish it was under better circumstances. Killing things isn't my profession, you see, but Anael took away all our Eros tipped ammunition." She sighed and moved back, eyes lighting up as she caught sight of the taller Winchester. "Hey you!"

Sammy made a strangled sound as the naked woman stepped delicately over a pool of blood, nimbly danced around his guard, and wrapped him in a hug.

Dean frowned. "Sammy, quit trying to knife my angel."

"You. Don't. Know. That." The younger called as he struggled to breathe. The self proclaimed angel continued to babble. Dean was content to examine her legs and butt: she was a bit thicker than his usual. Still, nicely proportioned and he had felt the muscles beneath that layer of fat. It probably made comfortable padding.

"I say she's an angel. She say's she's an angel. So she's an angel." Dean braced himself against the wall and tried to stand up. "It's not hard. Besides, we're dead. If she was a demon, I'd know."

The gorgeous brunette let go of Sammy and whirled, a quizzical look on her face as she picked up a silver bow that looked far too big for her. "Dead? You aren't dead silly!" She paused. "At least, I don't think so... I'm not sure how dead humans behave..."

"We aren't dead Dean!" Sam exclaimed in frustration, one eye on the now muttering nudist. He pointed the the dead demons. "I think she shot them."

Dean took a moment to absorb the information while moving steadily closer to the angel. "Well, there you go. No reason to knife my new girlfriend." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, knocking her from her musings. "What's you're name, babe?"

She giggled. "Israfel." Then she gave Dean a quick peck on the cheek and began pulling her arrows from the corpses. "Anna will get mad if I leave these. She's not very fun to be around when she's mad."

Sam fought back a head ache and wiped at his face. _Stop staring at the naked woman. Stop staring at the naked woman. _A quick look on Dean, who appeared to be in better condition than he was a moment before, revealed that he had no problems staring at the woman's bouncing bosoms. _At least her belt is covering that area. How is it staying up, anyway?_

"Why don't you have any clothes?" He asked, voice strained.

"Clothes?" That confused look was back. Dean found it absolutely adorable. "Why? What if I need to copulate? They would just get in the way!"

Dean grinned. "That is the best logic I have ever heard. Who needs clothes, really?"

She smiled at them and hummed to herself as she wiped the demon blood from her arrows on a velvet cloth produced from a small leather pouch on her belt.

Sam wondered when Dean started believing in higher powers, and he started doubting. He sighed. Probably about the time Bobby revealed the only thing known to be able to pull a soul from hell (beside the demon that put it there), and Hunters reported in serious war-zone like battlefields where had omens suddenly cleared up.

"Hey, maybe I can ask her to hook us up with another demon knife?" Dean stated hopefully.

* * *

Bobby pulled out an old religious text as he propped the phone between ear and shoulder. "Israfel, you said?" He flipped through the pages. "Huh. Fits, I guess."

On the other end of the line Dean was still smiling at the memory of cinnamon scented hair and sea-green eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Israfel, she's not very high on the hierarchy. Not even a warrior. She's the angel of music."

"Music?" Dean remembered her saying something about killing not being her usual job. She still kicked ass with that bow of hers. Patron angel of rock artists, maybe? "Awesome."

END.


End file.
